


Mea Culpa

by Rucksack (wingblade)



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character Study, Infidelity, M/M, Modern Era, Portland Oregon, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-08 20:00:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3221540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingblade/pseuds/Rucksack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Terra expects a fight — a blatant refusal, of some sort — because, deep down, he sees a part of himself in the sad, golden-eyed man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. invidia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blackpaopu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackpaopu/gifts).



> I still have the picture [Chris](http://blackpaopu.tumblr.com/) drew for my birthday set as my phone's wallpaper. (It's so cute holy moly. You can see it [here](http://blackpaopu.tumblr.com/post/96218085607/) if you haven't already, but you probably have so just cry over it some more with me, okay.) Whenever I see it, I think about how much I'd like to do something for them, so I hope they like this! They're really wonderful, super sweet, and out of this world inspiring to me.
> 
> If anyone knows anything about the season for Walla Walla onions, then they might be able to tell when I started this fic. Yeah. It took me _that_ long.

Ven’s hands are shaking. They don’t always shake, but it’s often enough for Terra to read between the lines. Ven’s hands quake in mid-air, suspended in the last moments of bliss, when he has orgasmed _hard_. In these moments, Terra lies next to him and watches his body relax: fingers falling limp against his hips and finally — the contact like a signal — his body wriggling into life. He blushes down at himself and pulls the thin sheet up to cover his body, and if Terra didn’t know any better, he'd think he was ashamed. No matter how many times they’ve done this — and Ven is _far_ from a virgin, as bashful as he may be — there’s also the post-coital awe in which Ven dwells on just whom he’s slept with.

The only reason Terra knows the truth behind the embarrassment is because, after their first time together, Ven had inadvertently told him, out of breath: “Wow, I just slept with _Terra_.” Terra had laughed, and it may or may not have been the most mortifying moment of Ven’s life thus far.

Terra has come to love the devotion he instills in Ven — the way he hasn’t moved on from what they have after his first taste. Ven stays because there is no one else who could make him feel this way. It’s one thing to finally be with the person you look up to and end up regretting it; it’s on the other side of the spectrum entirely when you find yourself loving every minute of it. 

In return, Ven is left in wonder at how Terra is still stuck here with _him_. Terra, the man whom Ven has looked up to — with stars in his eyes — his entire life. So strong, handsome, good at everything he tries, and while aggressive at times, he can be mysterious, too. His loyalties are clear, but Ven can’t always read his expression. Terra’s worked hard to keep up his trademark look of — as Aqua calls it — “just not giving a damn.” In a way, it’s really only him and Aqua in on their inside joke of “ _you’re really hurting, aren’t you?_ ”

It’s been worse ever since Ven started dating Vanitas. It boggles Terra’s mind how, after Vanitas is finished howling and tearing at his own hair, Ven can respond with a kiss. A kiss so simple and sweet it takes Terra’s breath away just to watch. Then it makes him angry; Ven shouldn’t have to be consoling this man-child. But he does, and it works. As weak as Ven may to Vanitas’ sultry charm, Vanitas himself isn’t immune to Ven’s sweet, loving charm in return.

This is what hurts Terra the most: how Vanitas is bad — so bad — for Ven, but it just works. They are complete opposites. Vanitas is _wrong_ , and Ven is right; so right.

Terra has never fit into the equation, exactly. There’s never even been an actual conversation between Vanitas and himself. They can both just taste it in the air — how Ven is drawn to both of them in different ways. It leaves a sour taste in Terra’s mouth. It’s _dangerous_.

They — whatever Ven and Terra could call themselves — didn’t even begin their intimacy during one of Ven’s many, many falling-outs with his black-haired lover. To be fair, Vanitas had been away at the time, so while it wasn’t resentment that drove them together, it could have been loneliness.

On Terra’s part, it was precisely that. There is a painful ache when, after so many years and so much time, the one you’ve desired has finally become unobtainable. All those missed chances and opportunities — once, in high school at lunch, had Ven been trying to kiss him? Had all those whispers of “no, nevermind” really started out as a confession?

This is why Terra has never told Ven how much he truly loves him. It would break him. This is his eternal punishment for trying to push Ven away for so long.

 _It’s just sex_ , he tells himself. _It has to be_.

But it never has been, and it never will be.

* * *

Ven rolls over onto his stomach and grabs his stuffed Donald Duck from the headboard. There’s enough room up at the top to gather a small army of stuffed creatures. Terra bought the stuffed animal for Ven’s sixteenth birthday, along with a paired Mickey Mouse, but Mickey’s been lost for years. Ven told him once that Donald reminded him of Terra.

_“You really think I talk like that?” Terra had teased._

_Ven answered, “Only sometimes. But you’re both passionate, and really care about your friends, even if you show it in different ways. Loyal, and hard to read sometimes… But, wow, yeah! Your voice is_ so _obnoxious…”_

Terra’s been lying on his side, watching Ven, but now he leans over slightly to be able to run his finger down Ven’s spine. Beneath the slow, deliberate caresses, Ven shivers. With every stroke of Terra’s finger, the bed sheets slip more and more down Ven’s back, then to his hips, and finally over them. Ven folds his arms across the bed and buries his face within them, whimpering softly as Terra touches aching skin for the second time tonight. At the very beginning of their adventures together — and they are exactly that, for no night or day spent in one another’s arms has ever been the same — Terra learned something interesting. Something he truly did not expect, but adores all the same.

And the truth is that Ven is never satisfied — never completely sated — until he’s come three times. It’s not something Ven ever told him; Terra coaxed it out of his body with a lot of love and patience. Whether it be three small ones, or three big ones over the span of hours, three is the magic number. Four leave him grumpy and sensitive. Both two and one leave him empty, and the air thick and stale: _just a little more_. Three leave him breathless.

Their time together is never quick; never rushed. Terra never skips the part where he maps out Ven’s body with his mouth and hands. Every time, he discovers something new, whether it be a tiny mole, a vein gleaming through pale flesh, or a faint stretch mark — a remnant from adolescence in which limbs and skin had pushed and pulled to grow into what they are today. At full height, Ven stands nearly five feet tall, but he’s been even smaller, Terra recalls fondly. But always lovely. Ven has never lacked beauty in Terra’s eyes.

If Terra let him, Ven would fall asleep after his first time alone. But Terra touches his body softly — like he’s doing now — to keep him aware. To keep him hypersensitive and craving more. Terra’s never be in a position to deny him. Ven has never come to him with anything outlandish, like demanding sex in public or pleading to be tied up and whipped. With anyone else, Terra could do this, and even enjoy it immensely. But not Ven. Being together is enough for him. He could never hit Ven, anyways; not even for play or sexual gratification. And then being with Ven like this in public — what could they even do? Have Terra drop to his knees in a dressing room? He is admittedly uncreative when it comes to “the bedroom,” improvised or otherwise. Vanitas catching wind of such activities would be a worry as well, biting at the back of his mind, but to Terra, the worst would be someone seeing Ven — or hearing him — the way he himself is able to. Which is absurd, he knows, since it’s not as if Ven began denying Vanitas the moment he and Ven had rolled into bed together, but it makes him feel sick all the same.

Terra imagines Vanitas’ tanned, claw-like hands touching Ven the way he is now. Is he good? Is he better than Terra? Why does Ven stay with him? _Why?_ The thought chews him up and spits him out. His movements slow, and finally Ven lifts his head to look into Terra’s eyes. He wipes away the beginning of a tear from his lover’s eye and smiles sadly.

They’ve never had to branch out in their pleasures because them being together is already so _forbidden_.


	2. in promptu sum

Terra isn’t around for the moment Vanitas choose to propose to Ven. He envisions the event to be along the lines of nearly all of the couples’ encounters he’s seen thus far: Ven, undeniably upset, tears coursing down his face, with Vanitas sneering, or — like some of the more eerie scenes Terra has witnessed — deathly silent. Maybe Ven threatened to leave. Something, Terra knows, had to have pushed the older man completely over the edge to have caused this. 

There isn’t even a ring. Terra would have liked to see Ven in a ring, at least. But even without such a material tie to Vanitas, Ven still smiles. Not every engagement starts with an actual ring, of course, but it makes Terra think of the drunk weddings downtown that are annulled the next morning when the couple wakes up and _really_ sees who they married. And Terra doesn’t want that for Ven at all. For all he knows, it was an impulsive proposal and Vanitas will deny it ever happened. Sometimes people do extreme things to keep the people they love close to them. If Terra hadn’t known before, he sure knows now.

Vanitas hasn’t come by again, at least not while Terra’s been home. Ven talks about how they’ve been planning their wedding (by “we” he means “himself”). But when they’re in bed together yet again, Ven ceases all coherent form of communication outside of “Terra” and “please” and “ _more_.”

Is this their last time together? Is this the last time Terra will feel Ven around him? It seems ominous — a prelude for untold pain — and its weight upon Terra’s shoulders is heavy. Is it really this easy for Ven to forget his betrothal when he’s with Terra? If so, then why is he marrying Vanitas at all? Will _this_ continue up until their wedding day? _Beyond?_

There are too many questions and Terra finds himself unable to lose himself in Ven’s kisses. Not for the first time, he thinks about how these lips have kissed Vanitas’, too. Long ago, Terra had been able to put it behind him that he hadn’t been Ven’s first. Now it’s just wrong as Terra realizes there simply shouldn’t have been any other.

He’s lost his chance. After all this time — every opportunity he’s been given — he’s ignored each occasion he’s had to make something, all in favor of the mundane. The known; the safe. When Ven started dating Vanitas, he could have said something. Even now, he could say something.

Terra ignores it yet again — the pleading he hears when he closes his eyes — and makes love to Ven like he always has: patiently and thorough in Ven’s pleasure. If there’s one thing he can do now — beautiful at the moment but masochistic for future recollections — it’s to memorize every inch of skin, every taste, and every sound. After Vanitas and Ven have sworn their love — whatever _that_ could possibly mean to Vanitas — Terra will have these racing thoughts and reminiscences of a happier time when he lies awake at night, alone in his room.

And the first time Vanitas hurts Ven — hits him or betrays his trust — Terra will be there to destroy him. The hypocrisy doesn’t bother him in the least. Ven has never purposefully hurt anyone. When he touches Terra and beckons Terra’s touch in return, he isn’t attempting to incite his newly-appointed fiance’s ire. Vanitas is the one who chooses to make Ven cry; to make him feel useless and hopeless, all to boost his ego and dominance over his far gentler lover.

Vanitas may be wrath, but Terra is all the rest: gluttony, lust, envy, pride, sloth, and greed. So as Terra holds Ven — who’s finally been able to fall asleep in his arms, exhausted and spent — he thinks about how he himself is darkness embodied.

* * *

Terra is the grocery shopper in the house. Aqua cleans, Ven cooks, and Terra pays the bills and buys the food. It was the only option left after his friends had shouted out what they wanted to do and scampered off — effectively ending any argument Terra could have come up with — but he’s always been fine with it. Bills only come along with the junk mail maybe twice a month, and the amount of times he has to purchase groceries in a month tends to be about the same. 

He nearly has their usual grocery list memorized, but Aqua and Ven always throw in a little extra something to keep him on his toes. This time, in Ven’s sprawling hand, the sneaky addition reads: _onions. Not the regular ones. The big, sweet ones, you know?_

“Big” and “sweet” are underlined. Having their own code — that evolved from, yes, a grocery list — Terra can read between the lines, Ven is saying, “You’re big and sweet.” A softie. Maybe even a reference to how Ven has likened Terra’s affection to that of a mother bear on more than one occasion. “Big” could also have another meaning, and Terra has to hold in a deep chortle as he contemplates Ven sending such a lewd note in _a shopping list_.

Beneath it all, though, its true meaning lies clear: Ven loves him dearly. He keeps this thought with him as he shops. Had Ven really even wanted the onions? After living here for so long, he should know that they’re basically out of season. Terra luckily ends up procuring a bag, regardless — the very last. If Ven’s request for the vegetables ended up genuine and Terra didn’t bring any home, Ven probably would have jokingly _thwaped_ him with a spatula as he started dinner. Which wouldn’t have bothered Terra in the slightest — anything to see that smile.

When Terra is ready to check out, of course he picks the worst lane out of nearly a dozen. He’s hiding clenched teeth behind his lips as he slowly backs away, but there’s already another customer standing behind him. Bumping into their cart is what causes the man in front of him to turn around.

It’s Vanitas. Terra could tell by the dark, spiky hair and striped t-shirt alone. There is no attempt at civility; Vanitas begins the confrontation with a sneer. Terra looks at what the man is carrying — a six-pack of beer under one arm and a pack of sweetened cigar wraps in the other. 

_Why did he have to come here, of all places?_ Terra wonders, his head beginning to throb. _Instead of going to a corner-store or something, he had to come_ here _._

Vanitas follows his gaze and rolls his eyes. “It’s cheaper here, obviously.” He’s lucky Terra’s hands are full or else Vanitas would probably have a broken nose by now, and Terra would be spending the night in a jail cell. Dealing with Vanitas alone like this isn’t something he’s ever had to do. He hasn’t had time to prepare — he isn’t _ready_. His hands clench around the handle of the basket he’s carrying.

 _It’s for Ven,_ he tells himself. _For Ven._

The black-haired man’s eyes look him over once more — appraisingly. Measuring whether or not he’s worth it. After the slightest bob of his head — in acquiescence, perhaps — he nearly turns back around. But then he’s slamming his case of beer onto the lane’s belt, his hand now dangerously free. It hangs in mid-air, limp and listless. From the look on Vanitas’ face, Terra thinks he’ll be needing far more alcohol than that single case for tonight. In all of the times Terra has seen Vanitas — usually just passing through to pick up Ven — he’s never looked like this; so _emotional_. For the first time, Terra stops to look at him; actually _look_ at him. He dims down the hatred momentarily — that hatred that was never asked for; the hatred that was automatically flung onto him for dating Ven — and Terra sees the dark bags beneath Vanitas’ eyes; the sagging shoulders that make him look frail and defeated. Vanitas finally drops his hand and Terra remembers how much he’s supposed to hate this man. But Terra would hate anyone who dated Ven — anyone who touched him, hurt him, made him laugh or smile, and especially anyone who loved Ven more than he ever could.

The relationship has been hard on Vanitas, too. Terra sees that now. But then why do they stay together? Terra is more confused than he has ever been. He’s angry, too — at himself, for allowing all this to happen. He may not like Vanitas, but if it weren’t for Terra himself, Vanitas wouldn’t even be a part of the picture.

Vanitas pays for his groceries and leaves. Terra has to smile softly at the fact that they both made it out with limbs intact. He checks over the grocery list one last time as the cashier rings him up calmly — humming a tune under his breath — oblivious to the animosity that had passed through his line. 

The words Ven wrote down jump out in Terra's head; he can hear them so clearly. He can’t wait until he’s done here — until he’s _home_ ; with that familiar carpet beneath his feet, and all the sights and smells he’s used to. Ven falling asleep with his head in Terra’s lap is home. The smell of the house after Aqua’s done the deep cleaning she likes to do on Friday nights is home.

Terra just doesn’t feel right anywhere else.

But, of course, the picture in his head is too good to be true: Vanitas is leaning against the side of his car, cigarette in hand, when Terra steps out into the parking lot. He looks much more calm and collected than he had in the store. Terra slings the shopping bags over his shoulders, freeing his hands in light of a scuffle, but when Vanitas notices him coming, he raises his hands in submission.

“Not here to fight,” he says, blowing a cloud of smoke into the wind. Terra waits, the straps of the bags digging into his shoulders. He’s tired and if he can make it out of this without a fight, he’d rather play along. For now. There’s nothing to gain now but an escalation from a headache to a migraine. It’s a sickening thought — a painful knot in his stomach — but what he’s feeling might be _guilt_.

Vanitas continues: “I want to say it wasn’t always like this. But you know, and I know…” He gazes up at the late afternoon sky and, if Terra were looking into his eyes — _really_ looking — he would see what might have been tears.

 _Has Vanitas ever cried in front of Ven?_ Terra ponders. _Has Vanitas ever cried in front of_ anyone _?_

“It was always about _you_ ,” Vanitas muses. “But you knew that, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t _know_ anything,” Terra snaps. “You’re the one —”

“Me? _Me?_ ” Laughter rings out, harsh and shrill, scratching at the backs of Terra’s eyes. The entirety of his weight feels so immense now, like if he moved, he’d fall. But his feet move fluidly as he steps towards the trunk to put the groceries away. He shouldn’t have indulged Vanitas’ delusions at all; what was he thinking?

Terra shakes his head for clarity. Vanitas is still muttering to himself — or maybe he’s just trying hard not to cry. Either way, it’s not something Terra should be here witnessing. This isn’t his problem — he has enough of his own. They shouldn’t even be talking. They never have before, so why _now_?

“Why _didn’t_ you date Ventus?” Vanitas asks, genuinely curious, as Terra slams the trunk shut. The car door is so close — he just has to make it past Vanitas.

Terra has his reasons, as illogical and guarded as they may seem. And maybe he can’t put them into words — maybe some are even _incomprehensible_ to him — but he’s not about to confess it all to Vanitas. This is the man he’s hated for so long now; sympathy may have softened the edges of anger, but the effect could only last so long. Vanitas is still the one who makes Ven cry, sobbing into the night in Terra’s arms. Terra decided long ago that Ven deserved to be happy — _always_ — and it’s become a common occurrence in which he is not. And it’s because of Vanitas, conniving in his ways.

It’s almost a surprise when Vanitas doesn’t grab his arm as he passes by. Terra expects a fight — a blatant refusal, of some sort — because, deep down, he sees a part of himself in the sad, golden-eyed man.

“You love him.” It’s said so simply that there is really no room for question. Terra finds himself nodding, regardless. Anything to reach the steering wheel that taunts him from inside the car. He can feel it in his hands — feel it turning in a wide arc, feel the power beneath his palms. And then, finally: _Ven_.

Perhaps Terra would stay for as long as Vanitas is willing to talk. He’s been making more sense than he’s been used to lately. They have a lot in common, almost disturbingly so: they both want Ven and are willing to hurt others to do so, even if the person they really end up hurting is Ven himself. But Vanitas is finished, having done his good deed for the day (or a lifetime, in his case). He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans and walks off after saying his goodbye:

“I loved him, too.”


	3. ignoscentia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me so long to finish typing because I no longer have a desktop computer, so I have requests open indefinitely! There's a link on my profile. You can even just send a pairing and I'll write that!

The smells of home envelop Terra. A fresh scent of recently prepared food wafts through the air. He hears the television in the living room running, but first he turns left to investigate the kitchen. On the fridge is a note from Aqua: _Working late tonight! Helped Ven with dinner — leftovers in the fridge. And yes, I made sure Ven ate! Love you_.

It's a comforting prelude to the inevitable. With the groceries put away — tucked into cupboards and pushed into the back of the fridge — Terra's not sure how to stall anymore. He hasn't even put any words together yet — hasn't strung any fragmented phrases into coherent thought — but he walks out into the living room, regardless.

Ven is reclining on the couch. He smiles up at Terra warmly as he sits down.

"Hey," Ven greets, scooting closer to the brunet, who wraps his arms around him. "How was the store?"

Terra could tell Ven it went well. He could say he found everything, even the nearly out of season vegetables Ven had asked for. But that would be a lie, and Terra's tired of running from the truth — tired of the repercussions and the anger and the pain.

Instead, he admits, "I saw Vanitas there." Ven shifts uncomfortably in his arms. "He made it sound like... like it was over. Is it? Is it, really?"

"You sound pretty happy about that," Ven mumbles.

"How long?"

Ven looks away. "What do you mean?"

Terra pulls away — enough to peel himself away from Ven's warmth. He touches Ven's faces, then turns it slightly to face him. Ven's eyes are closed and his body is trembling.

"No more lies. And not telling the whole truth — that's lying, too," Terra says. "Tell me why."

The blue of Ven's eyes are clear when they open. He nods. It takes a few moments of silence before he's coaxed into admission: he and Vanitas haven't been together for a while now; maybe a week. Perhaps two. Ven says he hasn't been counting. He says these have been the best days of his life — days where he's belonged only to Terra.

"Why did you date him at all?" Terra groans, his thumb caressing Ven's face.

"To hurt you," Ven admits. "I'm sorry. It was Vanitas' idea, you know? He said it'd make you want me, but he was wrong. Because _I_ want you. I really do, Terra. You think I don't know what I want, but I _do_."

"And you were going to marry him to spite me, too?" Terra can't blame him — not entirely, especially not with Vanitas pulling the strings. "When was it going to end?"

The way Ven's lip quivers in uncertainty, Terra can see he's scared. Would Ven have really gone that far? Terra's glad he never had to find out; glad he never pushed Ven to that length. He's frustrated, but it's a wide, open anger that's mostly directed at himself. It latches onto him like a second skin. This hurdle will be difficult to overcome, and he's still not sure what exactly it is that he wants. There aren't words or expressions for it. He loves Ven — he knows that — but what else is there to hold onto, other than this sick, tormenting jealousy? He wants to kiss Ven; wants to touch him and make love to him. He wants to live and laugh with Ven. And, more than anything, he doesn't want Ven with anyone else. Is that enough?

"Do you forgive me?" Ven asks. "Could you ever forgive me?" With the blame so evenly divided, Terra doesn't feel like there's much to forgive.

Terra bumps their foreheads together gently. "Do you really have to ask that?"

* * *

They're kissing in Terra's room now yet again. It's not the first time they've been in here together, but it's monumental in its own way. Terra crushes his arms around Ven — holding him against his body, opening his mouth to move alongside Ven's. For an instant, he forgets to breathe through his nose, so he breathes Ven in: his mouth, his lips, his taste, his touch.

When they kiss, it's never long before tongues come into play. They've tried to take it slow, but something about it is impossible. Terra wants to kiss Ven, and when Ven kisses him back just as hard, it's difficult to stay calm.

And when they kiss, there is nothing else. Ven steps up on tip-toe to wrap his arms more comfortably around Terra's neck. He sinks his weight into Terra, who wraps his arms around Ven's waist and carries him toward the bed.

The sheets are dark but familiar — a soft shade of brown that coats a large portion of Terra's room; earthy but cool. Ven stretches out against them as Terra looms over him protectively. Their hands find each other's and intertwine as Terra's lips ghost up Ven's neck — a teasing gesture that Ven arches into.

"I love you," Ven blurts unabashedly.

It's so pleasant to hear — a balm on sore skin. No matter what insecurities may plague Terra, he knows Ven will support him. He's known it all along; he's just choosing to begin the process of accepting it now. Accepting that this is right — that happiness is right.

Being with Ven has always felt _right_.

* * *

It's taken a lot of planning, but here they are today: it's the cusp of Spring, with its warm air and gentle breeze abound. The only thing bad about Spring, Terra finds, is its ability to engulf him with allergies. He's been sneezing all day, and Aqua has taken it upon herself to be his designated tissue-provider. The clutch she keeps them in is dark in contrast to her light lavender dress. It sticks out like a sore thumb, and every time Terra sees it, it reminds him of how much Aqua loves him.

They're small sacrifices, after all: Ven wanted a Spring wedding, and Terra had no reason to deny him.

 _It's been a long, long time coming_ , Terra thinks to himself.

When Ven clasps Terra's hands to recite their vows, Terra smiles and breathes in the relief he feels. There's no anxiety at all — not even a drop. He knows what's right: for him and Ven both.

Even Vanitas fits into the equation somehow; Ven had insisted on inviting him. He had shown up late, but Terra's surprised he showed up at all. Throughout the evening, whenever Terra has seen him, he's been alone. He even ate during the reception alone, standing off to the side. Terra almost missed him, and for the first time, Vanitas isn't scowling — the calmness set upon his brow nearly implies acceptance.

After everyone's made their toasts to the newlyweds and they've had their first dance, Ven grabs Terra's hand. He leads him over to Vanitas, who gives Ven a long look before kissing his cheek.

"Congratulations," Vanitas says — so quietly, Terra strains to hear him. Terra can feel Ven's relief through his palm; his breathing slows and his grip loosens, then tightens in a brief squeeze. Vanitas continues: "I'm happy for you. Really."

The genuineness of Vanitas' voice is so surreal, it takes Terra's breath away. And Ven's wanting to make sure Vanitas was okay — that just makes him love Ven all the more.

* * *

Terra's lost count of how many times they've made love. It's their honeymoon, so why not celebrate? Ven curls against him, breath warm upon his chest. Terra takes a deep breath as he plays with Ven's fingers sprawled across his stomach.

"This all started with my mistake," Terra begins. "Your hands were shaking..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always wanted to write a story that ended as it began...!


End file.
